


Oppurtunity

by egocentrifuge



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Calthazar, First Time, M/M, angel blue balls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-09
Updated: 2012-08-09
Packaged: 2017-11-11 18:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egocentrifuge/pseuds/egocentrifuge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There was never... opportunity," Cas had told Dean, and he had meant it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oppurtunity

Sometimes, Castiel liked to wander. He had never been to Earth--there were few who had, especially since Gabriel's disappearance--but he knew much of it through the memories of those souls Heaven sheltered. This one in particular he enjoyed; it belonged to a small girl from Pompeii who had died of aspyxiation after the eruption of Mount Vesuvius who had a certain predilection for horses. He was wandering through the fields outside Pompeii beside her when he sensed the presence of two of his brothers. The girl took no mind, but Castiel broke off to seek his fellows. He felt a certain urgency in their combined Grace; perhaps they were seeking something.

When he found them in the shadow of a tree, things were... not as the angel had expected.

Castiel froze where he was; the other angels didn't notice him. They were too intent on each other. At first Castiel thought they were fighting, but there wasn't enough movement for that. There was aggression, though; Castiel could feel it from where he was sitting. Pain, too, but there was something belaying the sensation, something... more subdued. It reminded Castiel of a thunderstorm, of lightning. It built on his skin as he watched the angels grapple, filled his body with electricity as the brighter of the two moaned.

Unaware that he was doing so, Castiel tilted his head for a better look. One of them must have seen, have sensed something, because in the next breath there was a flutter of wings and Castiel was alone.

It didn't matter. He had seen, in that moment, what his brothers had been doing.

The bright angel's moan haunted Castiel for the next century.

\-------

It was three-hundred years before Castiel saw either angel again. Balthazar, Zachariah had named him. Reassigned to guard duty for "unseemly conduct." He hadn't elaborated, but Castiel could imagine.

And that had been it, for half a decade. Napoleon had come and gone before they crossed paths again. It wasn't that Castiel had been avoiding his brother--no, that would imply that he was uncomfortable. Which would be ridiculous, of course. Humans copulated all the time; they seemed to take great pleasure in the activity. Castiel had seen it countless times before. It was just--

_\--two heads, a fox and a hyeana, both twisted in ecstasy. Grace brighter than any Castiel had seen, pulsing and writhing like the angel's wings as he tangled with his partner in inequity. Charge building like lightning under his skin and then, for the briefest of seconds, thunder as their gazes locked--_

"Castiel, right? Angel of Thursday. I've never had the pleasure of meeting you properly."

With all the calm six-thousand years of life could afford him, Castiel turned his eyes from his post and beheld the very object of his ponderings.

"Balthazar."

The angel's lips quirked up--human, Castiel noted. Balthazar must have been to Earth, taken a vessel. Curious.

"Focus, Cas. Eyes are up here."

"Of course they are," Castiel agreed, puzzled. "Where else would eyes be?" Regardless, he dragged his gaze away from the other's lips. He was no master of human emotion, but even he could see the amusement sparking in Balthazar's--rather strikingly blue--eyes.

"Where indeed," Balthazar repeated. His voice was the same as that day, rich and deep and naked with human delight. Castiel turned to search the horizon for storm clouds; his skin was crawling with static. The angel's moan was still echoing in his mind.

"Cas, I wanted to have a word with you. If you didn't mind?"

"I'm on duty."

"This will only take a moment."

Castiel didn't sigh, because he never did, but he allowed himself a moment's hesitation before he turned back to Balthazar. He had a few brief seconds to appreciate the true beauty of blue eyes before Balthazar and his overwhelming Grace-- _so bright, so beautiful_ \--was on him.

Five seconds or five years, Castiel wasn't sure how much time passed before Balthazar pulled back. He was smiling--smirking when he spoke next.

"It's better firsthand, yeah?"

He must have sensed Castiel was in no condition to reply, because after a moment he laughed, wings flexing with the action.

"It's no sin, Cas. Haven't you ever heard of divine ecstasy?" Balthazar closed one eye (in what Castiel vaguely recognized to be a wink) and in the next second he was gone.

Castiel turned his gaze back to Earth, but his mind was wrapped in lightning.

\--------

"There was never... opportunity," Cas had told Dean, and he had meant it. Oh, he had seen Balthazar again, but there was never a repeat of what happened that day in heaven. Balthazar wasn't around much; he had been reassigned after barely a decade and spent most of his time on Earth. It was a job he had relished.

They had come close once, sometime during the nineteenth century. Balthazar had broken off in the middle of a rousing tale about a prostitute and a clergyman when he had met Castiel's gaze over the table. Castiel still remembered the touch on his shoulder that had followed Balthazar's hasty excuse and subsequent exit, the shock that had coursed through him.

"Been thinking about you," Balthazar had breathed into his mouth once they were far from the garrison, wrapped up in the corner of an African man's heaven (he had died some decades earlier, on a ship bound for America). It would take Castiel months to remember anything but the feel of Balthazar's body on his, their Grace tantalizingly close to intertwining.

But then Balthazar had stopped, pulled away, eyes turned skyward as he listened to a message only he could hear.

"Oh, for Pete's sake," he had muttered, and Castiel had had just enough presence of mind to inquire, "Who is Pete?"

The smile and the kiss that followed had been a balm, but it had still hurt when Balthazar stretched his wings and was gone.

There was never opportunity, after that.


End file.
